“Right.Joe.Of course.”He busied himself with the computer, but I caught the way his shoulders stiffened.The tension that crept into his stance.
Michael was like a brother to me.A really good friend.And even if I’d felt something more, it wouldn’t matter.He was staff.I was the owner’s daughter.Some lines couldn’t be crossed, no matter how much it might hurt to hold them.
I made an excuse about checking on something and escaped before the silence got any more awkward.
With nothing to do until tea with Maya, I wandered the hotel looking for ways to help.The housekeeping staff politely declined my offer to fold towels.The restaurant manager assured me everything was under control.Even the maintenance crew waved me off with sympathetic smiles.
Unwanted everywhere.
The one place I actually wanted to be was my father’s office.I wanted to ask him about the man from yesterday.About the fear I’d seen in his eyes.About why he looked so old and frail lately, like something was eating him from the inside out.
But Papa hated being interrupted.And he’d never trusted me with anything important anyway.
After I graduate, I told myself.After I get my degrees in hospitality and business.Then he’ll have to take me seriously.
The thought felt hollow, even in my own head.
I killed the hours until three o’clock rearranging the lobby flowers and reorganizing the lost-and-found closet.Busywork.The kind of thing Papa would have waved me away from if he’d seen me.But it was better than thinking.
Tea with Maya was a welcome escape.
Her suite smelled like roses and old books, the afternoon light filtering through lace curtains.She’d laid out a spread of cream cakes and finger sandwiches on delicate china that could have fed a small army.
“Eat, eat.”She pushed another pastry toward me.“You’re too thin.”
I wasn’t, but I ate it anyway.
The cream puff melted on my tongue, light and sweet.Maya launched into stories of her time at the Bolshoi, and I let her voice wash over me.Tales of temperamental conductors who threw batons at sopranos.Backstage romances that scandalized the Moscow elite.Standing ovations so thunderous they rattled the chandeliers.Roses thrown at her feet in such quantities that she could barely see the stage.
“You should have been there for my final performance of Eugene Onegin,” she sighed, her eyes distant with memory.“The tenor fainted in Act Three.Simply collapsed.We had to drag him off stage and the understudy nearly wet himself with terror.”
I laughed until my cheeks hurt.
A different world.A different life.One where talent could take you anywhere, where passion mattered more than blood or inheritance.
By the time I left, the sun was setting and I was running late to meet Joe.
I hurried down the service stairs, texting him that I was on my way.No response.Typical.
The hotel restaurant was quiet for a weeknight.I slid onto a barstool to wait, ordering a sparkling water and trying to ignore the TV mounted in the corner.The news was on, sound muted, captions scrolling across the bottom of the screen.
I almost didn’t look up.
But then I saw his face.
Raphael Antonov filled the screen, looking every bit as dangerous in a tailored suit as he had in my father’s hallway.The caption read: ANTONOV ACQUIRES HISTORIC NYC LANDMARK FOR $666 MILLION.
I leaned closer, reading the scrolling text.Raphael Antonov, CEO of Volkov Capital, has acquired the historic Blackmore Building in Manhattan’s Financial District.The acquisition marks Volkov Capital’s largest real estate deal to date…
Volkov Capital.The name tickled something in my memory.Something unpleasant, like a splinter I couldn’t find.
On screen, Raphael was speaking to reporters, that predatory half-smile playing at his lips.Even through the TV, I could feel the weight of his presence.The way he commanded the space around him without raising his voice.The way everyone else in the frame seemed to lean away from him, unconsciously giving ground.
I remembered his hand on mine.The impossible heat of his skin.The way he’d looked at me like I was something to be consumed.
My pulse quickened.I pretended it was fear.
Just fear.Nothing else.
